When it came time to go to lunch, Marilyn kept driving, which surprised me, since she normally lets me drive when we are together. Instead, she drove us out Mount Carmel Road, and to the house. “Charlie and I came out here this morning and looked around. Now it’s your turn.”
“I was wondering where the two of you went. I wasn’t sure if you were going shopping or what,” I replied.
“Also, you need to get your other car. We can’t be sharing this one down in Baltimore.”
She was in an ‘I will be obeyed!’ lecturing mood, so I just said, “Okay.”
There was a van in the driveway from a flooring company that had been one of the subcontractors on the house. We pulled into the driveway and got out. It was with considerable trepidation that I got out of the car and went inside.
Marilyn led the way inside, carrying Charlie to keep him from wandering off on his own. It looked like a mess, but a somewhat organized mess. The cleaning company had come and gone, and they had taken care of a lot. The kitchen, unsurprisingly was in the worst shape. There was a patch on the wall where the drywall had been ripped out and replaced. The island had been unbolted from the floor and the linoleum had been taken out. The fellow who was there from the flooring company told me that new linoleum was scheduled to be brought out tomorrow, and he had a crew of guys coming to install it and then rebuild the kitchen. Also, I was lucky — the bloody footprints through the rest of the house had all been able to be scrubbed and sanded off the hardwood floors, although they needed to be refinished, starting tomorrow. Only some of the throw rugs would need to be thrown out.
I went through the house with Marilyn. The damage was mostly cosmetic. The cops had been through everything, even Charlie’s stuff, and clothing was strewn all around. My desk in the den wasn’t any better, and the locked drawers had been busted open with a pry bar. The desk was ruined and would need replacement. Our kitchen knives and my knives in my desk and bedroom had all been taken away. I had no idea why, since Hamilton had brought his own knife. I called DeAngelis and told him about the condition of things. There was very little he could do; since there was a bona fide reason to search (a dead body) they didn’t even need a warrant. He did think he could get the Troopers to release my possessions, including my knives and my gun.
I went back through the house to find Marilyn and Charlie straightening up his room. Well, Marilyn was straightening; Charlie was playing with his toys. At least he had his priorities straight. I kissed my wife farewell and headed to the office in the 380. I would meet her again in Baltimore that evening.
The next day I got a call from Carstans telling me to drop by his office. He had all my stuff and was releasing it. He couldn’t explain why the Staties had grabbed my knives, but they had turned them over along with my Colt when they turned me over. The forensics report on the gun matched the autopsy results. The bullets had been fired from the gun at a distance of six to seven feet, with a ballistics match and the proper level of powder residue. No surprise there. I went over after lunch and picked it all up and thanked him. He had been pretty decent throughout the whole affair, even if the State Troopers had been assholes.
We moved home on Friday. Marilyn and Charlie had spent the week cleaning up everything the cops had tossed around, all except my office. We checked out of the Hyatt that morning and I had a small heart attack with the size of the bill. I started totaling up all the expenses of this nightmare and had another heart attack. When you added in the cost of the security detail on Marilyn and Charlie, flying the bunch of them to Sacandaga Lake, the lawyers, and the repairs and cleaning to the house, I was about two hundred grand out of pocket! DeAngelis’ bill alone was over ten grand! When I mentioned this to John he simply shrugged and told me to pay it, smile, and say thank you. If I had been arrested and charged, and then gone to trial, we would have just started adding zeros to the check! I told him that I was obviously in the wrong business, and he laughed and threw me out of his office.
How do normal people do it? Mostly, they don’t. While some of the house damage costs are covered by home insurance, good lawyers and security companies are beyond the average person’s means. In cases like this, if they have somebody stalking them, they end up hurt or dead. If they kill their attacker, they go to jail. DeAngelis had told me it was even money that I would be charged with murder, since they could argue I had a duty to leave Hamilton in the house and run away. Hell of a system!
I spent Friday evening cleaning my den, with Charlie playing with his toy trucks on the carpet and Marilyn puttering around the house, wandering in and out of the den and serving me iced tea. I was going to have to buy another desk, but I got everything sorted out and put away properly. I silently showed Marilyn my Colt, which I had kept locked in my desk. That was no longer an option. When Charlie was looking at something else, I slipped it inside a plastic bag and put it up on top of my tallest bookcase. She didn’t look happy, but until I could lock it up again, that was the best I could think of. I just wanted to pack it all away. If I never had to use it again, that was just fine by me.
By eight, Charlie was asleep. Marilyn stayed up with me until I went to bed at eleven, even though she normally goes to bed earlier than me. She followed me into the bedroom, but went into the bathroom ahead of me. Nothing too unusual about that, so I turned down the bedspread and stripped down to my briefs. When Marilyn came out of the bathroom, we switched places, and I took a leak. When I came back to the bedroom, Marilyn was slipping on a white chemise with a red cherry print that I had bought her for Valentine’s Day. I crawled into bed and Marilyn crawled in next to me.
I turned off the lamp on the nightstand, darkening the room. “Good night.”
Marilyn rolled towards me and kissed me, but tonight she laid her head on my chest. I felt her hand on my chest near her face, but then she slowly moved it down my body.
I hadn’t been with Marilyn since before I had flown her and Charlie to the Adirondacks. This last week, after I got loose from the cops, staying in the Hyatt, hiding from the world and ducking everybody, I had been staying up late and thinking dark thoughts. Now, it seemed like it was a lifetime ago. “Marilyn, I don’t know…”
“Ssshhh… Don’t worry, I know.”
I shut up. Marilyn began kissing my chest as her hand slid lower down my torso. It took me a moment or two, but by the time her hand reached the waistband of my briefs, Carl Junior was getting pleasantly stiff. I was very happy when Marilyn continued kissing my chest, lower and lower down my body, even as she reached inside my briefs and began stroking me. Marilyn stopped long enough to tug my briefs off, and I lifted up enough to give her some help. Then she began kissing me again, moving her lips ever closer to my stiff dick, which was straining to get into her mouth.
I groaned when Marilyn began licking my cockhead, as she gently pumped my shaft. I knew she had to taste my pre-come, and Marilyn was licking it up like an ice cream cone. My hands were in her hair and running down across her shoulders and back, and I began humping my hips up, trying to drive myself into her mouth. After a few minutes of this, Marilyn opened her mouth and moved her face lower, and took me deep into her mouth. I groaned again.